


my dear, we have earned our laurels

by merthurlin



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, mild spoilers for wih
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 14:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurlin/pseuds/merthurlin
Summary: After it all ends, Throndir finds Red Jack again.





	my dear, we have earned our laurels

**Author's Note:**

> it's Altair's birthday today and they asked for Red Jack/Throndir. Happy birthday friend!!

After it all ends - after the Heat and the Dark come and go, after Hieron is remade again, after the sun is back in its place and the stars are dead and gone - Throndir finds Red Jack again. It wasn’t like he was searching for him, all this time; there were other concerns, other battles to fight. For a while there, Throndir couldn’t find himself, let alone Red Jack. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to find anyone, really.

He was so  _ angry _ . At Arell, at first, for taking his friend away, a friend who wasn’t real except for all the ways he was. Phantasmo was… Throndir still can’t really wrap his head around what Phantasmo was, except that he  _ was _ , that he existed in his and Hadrian’s and the other’s memories, that he changed them and was changed in return. So yes, he was angry at Arell, so angry he sometimes couldn’t breath for it, but it wasn’t  _ just  _ Arell. He was angry at Hadrian, for the way he followed his faith blindly, at Samot and Samothes, for blindingly leading Hadrian around. At himself, for desiring to live so much that he would become what he had, for having to re-learn self-control and his convictions.

And he was also angry at Red Jack, for running away. He didn’t know Red Jack, not really. They had a handful of conversations, most of which Throndir managed to blunder spectacularly. He knew of him from Kindrali’s memories, from Samol’s stories, knew vaguely of his time and Marielda and Old Man’s Chin and bits and pieces in between, but he didn’t really  _ know  _ him. And Red Jack ran away not just from battle, but from any possibility of changing that.

(He knew his laugh, and the way he would feed Ace, so gently, the way he played with the kids, so roughly. But those were the things everybody knew.)

But after it all ends - well, it seems petty to keep being angry, when there is so much out there to experience. So he takes his time, relearning himself, relearning Hieron. After all, it wouldn’t do to have a Ranger not know his way around.

He goes back to Vales, and to the snow elves. He makes his peace with the place that was once his home and will never be again, has dinner with Hadrian and Rosana and Benjamin. He visits Rosemerrow for a short time, marvels at the way the city already seems completely different than what he remembers. He thinks of visiting the archives but decides against it.

At the site of where the Old University used to be he makes a grave for Phantasmo. He doesn’t have a body, of course, and he doesn’t even know if Phantasmo wanted to be buried, but he makes due. Phantasmo can scold him for it whenever Throndir makes it to Adelaide’s realm.

He doesn’t go to Nacre or Ordenna.

Eventually he ran out of places to go. He could go join the Marielda rebuilding effort, but he finds himself reluctant to go to the City of First Light. He doesn’t know what happened with Samot or Samothes (either of the versions, and wasn’t that a headache to discover), and he would rather not get involved in god business for a bit more. That was Hadrian’s cross to bear, not his.

And so Throndir finds Red Jack again. It wasn’t particularly hard - it seems like Kodiak never lost track of the oni, and Throndir only needed to ask before he was led to a simple shack at the edge of the woods, halfway between Rosemerrow and Marielda. A quiet clearing, although Throndir could hear Ace’s neighing in the distance.

“Go on,” he encouraged Kodiak, “Go play with Ace.” Kodiak seems reluctant to abandon him, but playing with Ace again proved too alluring to resist, and he bounded away, although not before giving Throndir one last baleful look.

“Good to see your dog still mother-hens you.” 

Although Throndir hasn’t heard that particular laugh in months (maybe a year? Time was… weird for a while there), there was no way to mistake Red Jack for anyone else. Turning around to face him, a smile already prepared on his lips - 

“Is that a flower crown?”

Because there he was - the most intimidating figure Throndir has seen - well, one that wasn’t a god, anyway - skin as red as blood and horns sharpened to a point, wearing a big bright grin and a laurel of yellow and orange flowers on his head.

“Oh!” Red Jack raised his hand to his head, touching his crown briefly, as if wanting to make sure it was there. “I forgot about this. The kids were visiting for a bit, they wanted to show off.”

“They wanted to show off… their flower-crown making skills?”

Red Jack shrugged, the grin not leaving his face. “The moths are teaching them some weird stuff. Why, think you can do better?”

Throndir couldn’t help but laugh at that. This whole - this whole situation was unlike anything he expected this reunion to be, and yet he didn’t know why he even expected anything when Red Jack was involved. Throndir has proven quite efficiently that he didn’t know how to read the other man.

“Not a lot of flowers in Auniq to make flower crowns,” he shrugged in return, his laugh fading for a smile. 

“Well, that just won’t do,” Red Jack frowned jokingly. “Can’t have my kids suppressing  _ the  _ Ranger.”

“It simply won’t do,” Throndir nodded his head in mock approval, before grinning at Red Jack. “Think you make a good teacher?”

Red Jack grinned back at him, and Throndir couldn’t help the shiver of heat that passed through him at the glimpse of sharp teeth, a sliver of intent in Red Jack’s eyes. 

“Ah, my dear Throndir, the better question is: would you make a good student?”

They spent the afternoon making flower crowns. Throndir wasn’t very adept with color coordination, it seemed like, but his finger were deft and quick, and he quickly got the hang of it. Kodiak and Ace, at least, seemed to approve of their new accessories.

“I feel like somewhere Adaire is criticizing my technique,” Throndir confessed as they made their way to the shack, night slowly falling around them.

Red Jack laughed. “Well, you at least have my approval.”

Throndir paused just before the door, turning to look at Red Jack. “Do I?”

Because he knew that he didn’t, for a while. Oh, Red Jack was always cordial to him, happy to share a song or a tale, but there was distance where there used to be… not  _ intimacy _ , but its potential. Looking back, Throndir could never figure out exactly what was the catalyst for the change that seemed to overtake Red Jack seemingly overnight, but he knew it was something he said, some thoughtless comment or another. He couldn’t apologize for something he didn’t understand, wouldn’t even if he could, because he made peace with who he used to be and who he is now, and apologies wouldn’t help anyone at this point.

But he wondered what Red Jack saw when he looked at him now. Could he see the changes vampirism brought with it? Could he see the aftershocks of Throndir’s anger, the residues of his newfound convictions?

Red Jack looked back at him for what felt like hours but was probably seconds, time stretching and shrinking just like it did in the Bouy. Throndir couldn’t read him now anymore than he could months ago, but one didn’t need to be a mind-reader to read the way his lips now stretched not in a grin but in a smile, the way his eyes softened and the laugh lines in his face deepend.

“We have time enough now to find out.”


End file.
